


I can be your lover, best friend, and partner in crime

by Philosoferre



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff, Little bit of angst, M/M, Police, basically e and r in jail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 11:39:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9547544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philosoferre/pseuds/Philosoferre
Summary: “How did you get here?” Enjolras asks softly.Grantaire shrugs, “Well, you got arrested without me and I felt rather betrayed. So I punched another officer just to get put here with you. I also thought you’d need the company, you know.”-Enjolras and Grantaire's relationship, told through all the times they get arrested together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure, silly fluff, but bear with me folks, I'm sick and my cat won't cuddle with me, so this is my way of cheering up.   
> Enjoy, anyways! :)

There are very few things Grantaire never wants to happen in his life. Being stuck in a holding cell with Enjolras is one of them. And yet here he is.

Enjolras is pacing back and forth, one hand attempting to stop the cut on his wrist from bleeding. He has a bruise covering half of his face, but he had refused the ice one of the officers offered.

Grantaire sighs. He stands next to the bars and gestures for one of the officers.

“Hey, can we get a first aid kit and some ice over here?” He asks.

Enjolras glares at him. It isn’t half as frightening as it should be.

Grantaire rolls his eyes, “Come on, Apollo, you know you need it.”

“I don’t need anything,’ Enjolras snarls. ‘When will Ferre be here?”

Grantaire doesn’t reply. An officer – his nametag reads ‘Don’ – hands him a small first aid kit and a bag of ice.

“Take this, and put it on your face.”

Surprisingly, Enjolras does as he’s told without much reluctance. He pouts and sits on the bench at the back of the cell, holding the bag against the bruise. It’s almost endearing. Grantaire gets out the gauze and tape from the kit and sits down beside him. He gestures to Enjolras’ wrist. Sighing, Enjolras removes his hand and holds it out for him. They don’t talk as Grantaire wraps gauze around the cut. He’s not even sure he’s supposed to be doing this, but it was obvious Enjolras wasn’t going to.

“Thanks,” Enjolras says.

Grantaire nods and hands the first aid kit back to Officer Don.

“Why did you do that?” Enjolras asks suddenly.

Grantaire leans against the wall and shrugs, “Well, you were hurt, so-“

“Not that. Why did you punch that officer? At the rally?”

Ah, yes, that spontaneous act of defensive violence that got him here in the first place.

Grantaire looks up at Enjolras. He almost looks concerned. He looks down at his bruised, bloodied hand, and instinctively pulls his sleeve over it. He can’t let Enjolras know he’s hurt, too.

“He was going to hurt you,’ Grantaire says. ‘And I couldn’t let him, so I had to do something.”

“Why?”

Enjolras tips his head to the side, his not-bruised eye wide with curiosity. It’s an adorable sight.

_ Because I love you,  _ Grantaire thinks.  _ I can’t watch you getting hurt. _

“You were already hurt enough as it were. I’m pretty sure he also had a Taser.”

Enjolras smiles softly and leans his head against the wall. They don’t talk much until Combeferre bails them out.

                                                         --------------------------------------------------

The next time they get arrested, it’s raining. Enjolras isn’t even really sure how they got here – all he remembers from the protest is Grantaire getting in a violent fight with some homophobic asshole. He doesn’t know what he had to do with any of that.

Regardless, when the police asked who had been involved, Enjolras said he was, too.

“Why did you say you were involved in the fight?” Grantaire asks.

They’re sitting on opposite ends of the same cold bench. Enjolras shrugs, inspecting his hands for any injuries, even though he knows he won’t find any.

“I’d feel bad if you were here all alone.”

Grantaire snorts, “Yeah, right. Use me as a cover-up for your chivalry and noble deed, it’s fine.”

Enjolras looks up at him, frowning. Grantaire’s covered in cuts and bruises and blood (most of it isn’t his – he broke the other guy’s nose), and his shirt is sticking to him in all the right places from the rain.

“I’m not here because of chivalry, Grantaire,’ He says. ‘I’m here because…”

 

“Because what? You feel partially responsible? You set up the protest, so it’s your fault? You could’ve done something? Just fuck off, will you?”

Enjolras opens his mouth to respond, but then Grantaire takes off his shoes and lets all the water pour onto the floor. It’s only when he leans back against the wall, eyes closed, that Enjolras notices the small, red spot on his hoodie.

“You’re bleeding,” He says.

Grantaire opens his eyes and laughs, “Astute observation, Apollo. Yes, I know.”

“Why?”

“Do you want the scientific explanation for blood flow?”

Enjolras wishes, just this once, that Grantaire will take him seriously. That he won’t turn everything he says into a joke.

“What happened?” He grits out.

Grantaire shrugs, “The guy had a knife.”

“A knife? You got stabbed? Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“I didn’t get stabbed, it’s just a cut. A very small, insignificant cut that you, above all people, shouldn’t have to worry about.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, attempting to look exasperated. It doesn’t really work, considering he’s too concerned about Grantaire’s ‘very small, insignificant’ cut to be frustrated at him.

He chooses the absolute worst time to look back at him.

Grantaire is now shirtless, his hoodie draped over the bench beside him. Enjolras can’t even focus on the cut, which isn’t that small or insignificant, because people shouldn’t be allowed to look that good. Grantaire should never be allowed to be shirtless again.

Grantaire notices him staring just as he tears off a piece of the gauze they had been given  _ with his teeth _ and wraps it around his waist. He frowns.

“What?”

Enjolras blinks, “I… uh, well… your cut.”

“I bandaged it, it’s fine. No need to worry.”

Enjolras nods. He decides not to mention Grantaire’s shirtlessness, and pointedly doesn’t look in his direction for the remainder of their time in the holding cell.

Enjolras doesn’t even bother to defend himself when Combeferre gives him a suggestive look. Grantaire also doesn’t put his shirt back on until they get in the car.

                                                         -----------------------------------------------------

It’s Friday when they get arrested. Grantaire can’t help but think that this is all Enjolras’ fault. Damn Enjolras and his stupid rallies.

He had actual plans today, and instead he’s in a confined space, disinfecting the cut Enjolras managed to give himself. He has two, actually – one on his hand, which Grantaire can deal with, and one on his bottom lip, which Grantaire cannot deal with.

He’d rather not go anywhere near Enjolras’ lips.

“Thanks,” Enjolras says quietly.

“For what?”

“For this,” He gestures to the bandage Grantaire’s gently placing on his hand.

Grantaire shrugs, “No problem.”

Enjolras looks like he wants to say something else, but then an officer pulls a chair up to their cell.

“Enjolras and Grantaire, right?” The officer asks.

He takes a long drink from his mug. Grantaire can smell the coffee, and he would kill for some right now, but they’re in a police station, so that might not be a very good idea.

“Yeah,’ Enjolras says. ‘Why?”

The cut on his lip starts bleeding again, and his tongue darts out to lick it. Grantaire tries not to stare. He really tries.

“You guys are kind of infamous ‘round here,’ The officer says. His badge reads ‘Louis’. ‘Those two kids who keep getting into trouble. Always protests, or something.”

Enjolras tenses up. Instinctively, Grantaire tightens his hold on his hand, reminding him that he’s here. He thinks he feels Enjolras relax a bit.

“We’re not kids. We’re part of an activist group.”

Louis nods and raises his mug, “Explains the protests. What got you into trouble this time?”

“I punched an officer,” Grantaire says tiredly.

Admittedly, he’s not entirely proud of what he did (okay, it was awesome, but still), and telling it to another cop doesn’t make him feel any better.

“And you’re not too shabby at it,” The officer he punched says as he walks past them.

Louis smiles a bit, “To save your boyfriend or something?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Grantaire splutters.

He’s entirely aware of the fact that he’s blushing, and that Enjolras is tense again. Louis gives him a knowing look.

“Not to save me,” Enjolras says defensively.

Grantaire shakes his head, “I did punch him to save you, you dumbass. You’re such an idiot, you never saw the guy coming.”

Enjolras takes a deep breath, but he doesn’t say anything. He probably doesn’t think now’s the time and place for an argument.

“That friend of yours, the one with the glasses,’ Louis says, breaking the awkward silence between them. ‘He coming or not?”

“He always comes,” Enjolras mutters.

He sounds tired. Grantaire briefly wonder when he last got some sleep, or ate anything.

Enjolras falls asleep on him soon afterwards, and he doesn’t really complain. Louis hands him a soft, red blanket.

When Combeferre finally comes, much later that night, Louis tells him to keep the blanket.

He also wishes him good luck with Enjolras, which he pointedly ignores.

                                                         -----------------------------------------------------

It’s five in the morning when Combeferre gets a call from the police station. He recognizes the officer on the line, Don.

“Hey, Combeferre, right?” Don asks.

Combeferre sleepily puts on his glasses and yawns, “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Okay, great, I got the right number. I asked your friends if they wanted to take their calls, but they both refused so I called you for them.”

“They’re at the station?”

“Yeah, apparently Grantaire’s friend Eponine – never knew her parents are the Thenardiers – but anyways, she was at a bar or something, and he was going to pick her up and then this guy starts hitting on her, right, so she gets annoyed. And then Grantaire started beating the guy up when he wouldn’t leave her alone.”

“I’m assuming Enjolras is there, too?” He sighs.

“Yeah, but he’s here because we caught him trying to graffiti something about revolution on the side of the building. Anyways, you should come bail them out.”

“Fucking hell,’ Combeferre mutters. ‘Leave it to those two to get arrested at five in the morning.”

Courfeyrac, who has been sleeping in a blanket burrito beside him, wakes up at the curse words. Combeferre only ever swears when he’s really, really annoyed.

“What’s going on?” He asks sleepily.

Combeferre says something into the phone before reaching over to gently kiss his forehead.

“Enjolras and Grantaire got arrested and I have to go bail them out.”

“Wait,’ Courfeyrac says, dragging himself out of bed. ‘I’m coming with you.”

-

When Courfeyrac and Combeferre arrive at the police station, they’re attacked with the raucous yelling coming from one of the holding cells. Every single police officer in there looks extremely uncomfortable.

“They’ve been at it for an hour,” Don says.

Courfeyrac grins, “What, are they finally having hot, angry sex?”

Combeferre shoots him a look. Don sighs and shakes his head.

“No, worse. They’re arguing about… honestly, I don’t even know what they’re arguing about anymore. It started off with Enjolras getting annoyed at Grantaire getting arrested, or something.”

Enjolras’ voice is clear as he yells out: “WELL YOU’RE DEFINITELY NOT HELPING EPONINE, YOU’RE SUCH A FUCKING MESS YOURSELF!”

“Well,’ Combeferre sighs. ‘I kind of wish they were having hot, angry sex right now. I’d be able to get those images out of my mind someday.”

Courfeyrac pulls a notebook out of his bag (which he insisted on bringing) and turns to Don.

“Place your bet on when they’re going to get together,’ He says. ‘And who’s going to make the first move.”

At first, Don looks rather surprised. It quickly fades.

“€40 on them getting together because they have hot, angry sex in the holding cell the next time they get arrested. And €20 on it being Grantaire who makes the first move. You can’t miss the way he looks at Enjolras.”

Combeferre sighs, “Courf, that’s not what we’re here to do.”

Courfeyrac ignores him and proceeds to go around, asking the officers what they’re betting on.

Combeferre doesn’t know who he’s more pissed at: Enjolras and Grantaire, for getting arrested at such an hour and arguing rashly, or Courfeyrac, who’s betting with police officers about their relationship.

-

The minute they’re out of the cell, Enjolras storms off to the car. Grantaire sighs.

“Yeah, you go ahead, I’ll return the ice,” He says.

Combeferre leans against the bars, “Ice?”

 

Grantaire sighs again, “Yeah, the guy who was hitting on Eponine wasn’t too bad at fist fighting himself.”

He points to his black eye. Combeferre winces, but then he frowns.

“Why did you beat him up, anyways?” He asks.

“He was on the verge of assaulting Eponine.”

Combeferre nods and leads him away from the cell. They return the ice to Louis, who lets them take a donut each (Combeferre gets one for not slapping both of them the minute he bailed them out, and Grantaire gets one for not brutally murdering Enjolras in the cell).

“Grantaire,’ Courfeyrac says. ‘Care to place your bet on your relationship with Enjolras?”

Grantaire looks unimpressed, “€100 on it never happening, and another €100 on me confessing my love and Enjolras hating me even more.”

“Wow, okay, even the officers bid on it happening.”

Grantaire turns to face the police officers, arms crossed indignantly.

“You guys bet on this, too?” He asks.

He doesn’t sound mad, or annoyed. Just…exasperated at Courfeyrac.

Louis shrugged, “You can feel the tension from miles away.”

“Fuck you, Courf,” Grantaire says.

Courfeyrac smiles. Combeferre feels the same.

                                                         ----------------------------------------------------

Enjolras gets arrested at their next protest for attacking an officer, who got assigned to keep the peace, even though he was from another precinct. They must’ve been short on officers that day.

He’s in the cell when he realizes that he hasn’t seen Don at all.

“Where’s Don?” He asks Louis, who’s stationed outside his holding cell.

“His wife’s having a baby. A girl,’ Louis says. ‘Here, he sent me a picture.”

He holds his phone up to the bars, and Enjolras peers over. It’s definitely one cute baby.

“Oh, tell him congratulations from me.”

“And me,” someone says.

Enjolras recognizes that voice. Both he and Louis look up at Grantaire, who’s standing outside the cell, his hands handcuffed behind his back. He smiles.

Enjolras feels relieved. He also feels something else, but he’s going to keep denying it. Louis removes the handcuffs, then unlocks the cell and lets him in.

“How did you get here?” Enjolras asks softly.

Grantaire shrugs, “Well, you got arrested without me and I felt rather betrayed. So I punched another officer just to get put here with you. I also thought you’d need the company, you know.”

Enjolras hugs him before he can even think about what he’s doing. Grantaire freezes for a moment, but then he wraps his arms around Enjolras and holds him.

“I thought something had happened to you,” Enjolras whispers into his shirt.

It’s only when they’re this close that he remembers that Grantaire is taller than him.

“I just didn’t get to do the cool cop-punching stuff before you,” He replies.

Enjolras wonders if he imagines the soft, gentle kiss Grantaire places on his hair. Behind the bars, Louis gives him a thumbs up and a large smile. Enjolras rolls his eyes.

They break apart, just barely, and Grantaire inspects his face.

“No cuts,’ He says, impressed. ‘Fascinating.”

“I can get arrested without getting injured,” Enjolras scoffs.

Grantaire nods, “Sure, of course you can. You just haven’t previously succeeded with that. Just saying.”

“I’m glad you guys are friends now,’ Louis interrupts. ‘Really, makes things a lot nicer here.”

Enjolras smiles a bit, “Yeah, me too.”

                                                         ------------------------------------------------------

The next time they get arrested, it’s because a homophobic asshole saw Grantaire holding Enjolras’ hand in his own, which, to be honest, he was only doing because Enjolras was ranting to him about how stressful he was because of that conference he was going to be attending that weekend. They’d gotten into a fight, and somehow, the other guy managed to get away before the police arrived.

Feeling sympathetic because they had been attacked in the first place, Don got them some coffee from the ancient espresso machine in their staff room.

“Can I have a Sharpie?” Grantaire asks.

Don looks mildly surprised as he hands him the Sharpie in his pocket. Grantaire takes the cap off, and then pulls Enjolras’ arm towards him. He rolls up his sleeves and begins lightly drawing on his forearm. Enjolras looks amused.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“Drawing,’ Grantaire replies, holding the cap in his teeth. ‘Inspiration strikes randomly.”

Enjolras doesn’t take his arm back, but instead shifts a bit to give Grantaire easier access to his skin.

“You an artist or something?” Don asks, trying to see what he’s drawing through the bars.

Grantaire nods, “Fine Art and Classics major at university.”

“And what’s Enjolras doing?”

“PPE,” Enjolras answers.

“Oh, nice. What years?”

“Undergrad for Enj,’ Grantaire says. ‘And I’m getting my Masters.”

“And you guys are part of an activist club. Very nice.”

 

“Yeah,’ Enjolras says softly, smiling at Grantaire. ‘It is very nice.”

-

A few minutes later, Grantaire returns the Sharpie to Don, and lifts Enjolras’ arm so he can see the design he drew. He isn’t exactly sure what it’s supposed to be – some flowers, some vines, a few swirls that vaguely look like octopus tentacles, some Ionic columns in the background.

Enjolras looks at his arm, his cheeks faintly coloured with a light blush. He smiles – genuinely smiles- at Grantaire, blue eyes sparkling.

“It’s beautiful,” He says.

Grantaire almost leans in to kiss him, because it’d be so easy, with them being an inch or two apart. He can feel Enjolras’ breath. He can see every fleck of gold, or indigo, in Enjolras’ eyes. He can count every light freckle on his nose.

“Thanks,” He replies, softly.

Don coughs, “Sorry to interrupt, guys, but looks like your friends’ here.”

They both blink at him, suddenly remembering that they aren’t alone, and that they’re still arrested. Enjolras gives Grantaire a small smile as he follows Don outside the cell to where Combeferre is standing, looking rather annoyed at them.

Don sighs as they exit the station. He turns to Louis, who’s consuming an entire box of donuts at his desk.

“Those two have really got to get their shit together,” He says.

Louis nods in agreement, and then offers the last donut.

                                                         --------------------------------------------------

Enjolras gets arrested again a week later, and he feels like Grantaire should be in the cell, too, but he’s not.

As is normally the case, Grantaire defended Enjolras from someone who was against their protest, but as is not normally the case, he got such a terrible blow to the head that he fell unconscious. Combeferre and Joly took him to the hospital.

So now Enjolras is stuck in a holding cell with the idiot who fought with Grantaire. And he feels a very primal urge to rip the guy’s throat out.

And he’s even more annoyed, because the man decided to take his phone call right now.

“-You should’ve seen what I did to him,’ He laughs into the phone. ‘Man, I kicked him so hard, he’s in the hospital right now.”

“Oh, shut up,’ Enjolras yells. ‘Go be an asshole somewhere else.”

The man looks up at him, “Fuck off. You’re just annoyed because you couldn’t save your boyfriend.”

Enjolras walks over to him and grabs the collar of his shirt. He narrows his eyes.

“Don’t you fucking say anything bad about him,’ He hisses. ‘And he’s not my boyfriend.”

He viciously releases the man, who just sits in his chair, stunned, before resuming his previous conversation.

Louis pulls a chair up to the cell and sighs, “It’s okay, kid. Grantaire’s fine. I got a call from Combeferre, he’s alive and his vitals are stable. And he’s conscious again.”

Enjolras looks up, eyes wide with hope.

“Can I go see him, then?” He asks.

Louis shakes his head, “Sorry, I can’t let you out until someone bails you out. You’ll have to wait until your friends come get you.”

Enjolras opens his mouth to reply, but then he hears the door open and a very familiar voice rings out.

“CAN ONE OF YOU INCOMPETENT IDIOTS GIVE ME ENJOLRAS? I DON’T HAVE FUCKING TIME TO WAIT!”

Enjolras shivers. It’s Eponine.

“That doesn’t sound too good,” Louis says.

Enjolras takes a breath, “No, no it doesn’t. That’s Eponine.”

Eponine storms over to the cell. She looks like she’s been crying, but she also looks like she wants to wrangle Enjolras with her bare hands and then mutilate his body.

“Why the fuck did you let him do that? Why did you let him get hurt, Enjolras? You think you can do shit like that, huh? He’s in the fucking hospital! And it’s all your damn fault, you son of a-“

Louis opens the cell door, “Okay, that’s enough.”

Eponine narrows her eyes at both of them. She doesn’t spare the other man in the cell, who looks scared out of his wits, a second glance.

“I hope he’ll be okay,’ Louis says, patting Enjolras’ shoulders. ‘Tell him I send my regards. From all of us.”

Enjolras nods and follows Eponine outside.

“I’m sorry,’ He says quietly. ‘It really is all my fault. He defended me.”

Eponine puts her hands on her hips and sighs.

“Honey,’ She says. ‘No one can stop Grantaire from defending you. He lo- he cares about you, all right? Just promise to watch out for yourself more in the future, and let’s be done with it. I haven’t seen him yet, either.”

Enjolras wonders if Eponine was about to say what he thought she was going to. Was she going to say that Grantaire loves him? Because that’s a stupid thought, really. Grantaire only thinks of him as a friend, nothing more.

“Eponine,’ He asks. ‘What were you saying before?”

“That’s for R to tell you, not me.”

Well, she’s no help at all. Enjolras decides he’ll just ask Grantaire himself, at the hospital. He hopes that whatever it is will be good.

                                                         -------------------------------------------

They get arrested two weeks later at a protest that they didn’t organize. It was something Combeferre had heard about, something dealing with domestic violence, and they had decided to go, to see what other activist groups were up to.

Of course, Grantaire had to punch a police officer. (“Otherwise it’s not worth it,” he’d said.)

Which meant that Enjolras had to punch the officer who then went after Grantaire, because that’s kind of their thing now.

“You do realize,’ Grantaire says, once they’re in the holding cell. ‘That this is basically our cell. We’re always put in this one.”

Enjolras laughs. He has his head on Grantaire’s lap, and Grantaire is idly playing with his hair. He doesn’t mind being arrested right now.

“They just really love us here,” He replies.

Grantaire kisses his hand, “Good point.”

Enjolras wants to ignore the looks Don and Louis share outside the cell, but instead he winks at them.

“You know what we should do on Valentine’s Day?” Grantaire asks.

“Hmm?”

“Get arrested while protesting about the freedom of love.”

Enjolras sits up and presses a soft kiss to his jaw, then looks him in the eye.

“You always know how to say the most romantic things,” He says, and then leans forward to kiss Grantaire.

It starts off soft, chaste, slow, but their kisses almost never stay that way. Enjolras opens his mouth slightly, gasping for breath. He finds himself pinned to the wall, but he doesn’t really mind. Grantaire leans down to trail kisses down his neck and along his collarbone, his hands settling on his waist. Enjolras’ shirt rides up and he arches against the cool wall. Not that he minds, really.

“Grantaire,’ He says breathlessly. ‘I need you to-“

Don and Louis both cough. Grantaire slowly turns to look at them, eyes wide. Both of them are bright red.

“You guys know we can see everything you do in there, right?” Louis asks.

Enjolras clears his throat and fixes his shirt, “Oh, yeah, of course. We know.”

“Sorry,’ Grantaire says, biting his lip. ‘We just got… carried away.”

Don blinks at them, “Carried away? It looked like you were planning on having sex.”

Enjolras smiles a bit, “Uh… we were. I think.”

Grantaire pulls him closer and mumbles, “Later,” into his hair. Enjolras sighs.

Combeferre clears his throat from where he’s standing beside Don and Louis.

“Pay up, gentlemen,” He says.

“Damn it,” Don says.

“I thought I had this one down pat,” Louis mutters.

Reluctantly, they both hand over money to Combeferre, who looks genuinely pleased as he tucks it in his pocket.

“Who won?” Don asks.

Combeferre looks smug, “I did. I said they’d get together the next time one of them ended up in a hospital, and that Enjolras would make the first move.”

Enjolras narrows his eyes, “You betted on us?”

“Speaking of which,’ Combeferre turns his gaze to Grantaire. ‘Pay up.”

“Hey, I gave Courf the money earlier.”

“You too?” Enjolras asks incredulously.

Grantaire shrugs, “Well, I mean, literally everyone in Les Amis except for you was in on the bet. I’m surprised Eponine didn’t win, honestly.”

“She betted that you’d both deny your feelings until one of you is getting married to someone you don’t actually love and the other one crashes the wedding,” Combeferre says.

“Honestly,’ Grantaire says, looking at Enjolras. ‘I’d totally crash your wedding.”

Enjolras bumps his shoulder, “You’d already be there, dumbass.”

Grantaire blushes a bit and then gets up, “Right, okay, we should be going, then.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes as he follows them. Don and Louis wave after them.

“Stay safe!” Louis calls out.

Enjolras shoots him a glare, “In what way?”

Louis winks at them, “All ways.”

Enjolras groans and runs after Combeferre and Grantaire to the parking lot.

                                                         ------------------------------------- 

There are many things Grantaire never wants to happen in his life. But getting stuck with Enjolras in a holding cell… well, that’s not so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> If you got that 3rd Rock From the Sun reference, ily. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, mes amis! Come drop off headcanons and talk to me about dead French revolutionaries on tumblr (my url is epo-nine)!


End file.
